


I Wish I Could Eat Your Cancer When You Turn Black

by franksmile



Series: Ballato, Way and Westwood's Supernatural Investigation Agency [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8554543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franksmile/pseuds/franksmile





	1. Darkness

Ray presses a hand to the car window and sighs. He knows it's cold out there, because everyone is in hoodies and scarfs and the heating in the van is cranked right up. There's even frost on the trees they're driving past. The leaves are shaking under the weight of it, sparkling under the almost full moon.

Ray can't feel anything. 

Everything always feels the same temperature now, not hot or cold, just dry and slightly cool. Clara's wrapped up in a blanket and pressed up against his side, head resting on his shoulder. He can feel her breathing, and she's twitching ever so slightly, so he knows she's having a bad dream. She sleeps next to him every night and over time he's learnt what the twitching means. He hates how often it happens. At least once each night. 

Ray looks behind him to Mikey, to ask him to stop the nightmare, but Mikey's fast asleep, half curled up in Pete's lap. Pete's absently playing with Mikey's hair, looking out the window, just like Ray. He's got an odd look on his face as he stares up at the moon, a mixture of fondness and resentment. Ray thinks he used to look at his mother like that when he was younger, when he became a bit rebellious. Now, he'd give anything to just be in a state where he could be with her again. 

Frank's reading a comic next to them, and when he sees Ray looking he rolls his eyes and mimics vomiting. Ray just smiles and turns back around. 

Ray wants to reach out to hold Clara's hand, maybe even wake her up, but she hasn't been able to sleep for nights, so he lets her rest. He's waiting for her to start shivering to disturb her, because even though he doesn't feel the cold his body warmth is now non-existent. Ray has  _become_  the cold. 

Gerard is driving. He and Lindsey are talking in soft whispers. It's just background noise in Ray's ears. Clara twitches against him again, but he fights away the urge to wake her and lets her sleep. When she does get too cold, and she's woken, she'll complain. She always does. She says he's comfortable, but Ray finds that hard to believe. He's a fucking ghost. He's just a squashy bit of cold matter that's floating around. 

They've finally sold the pickup and bought a big van, and its engine is quiet. Ray misses the roar of the truck because night time, when everything is quiet, is the worst. Loud sounds can block out bad thoughts. But the quiet hum of the van does nothing to stop the onslaught of self-directed hate that barrages him inside his head. 

He just feels like a massive burden. He knows Pete was happy in Chicago, and settled. Clara's told him they are finally back together as a group after a long time, and now he's basically forced them to pick up and leave, driving cross country while hauling around a ghost and a chest full of what's left of his body. 

He still can't go very far from his body. Well, it's just a skeleton now. He doesn't ask who or how, but his flesh has been cleaned off and all that's left are his bones. They've put them into a trunk and locked it with six different padlocks. Each of them had a key, but Clara got twitchy about everyone's ability to not lose them, so she's got two on a chain around her neck and Lindsey and Gerard have the rest.

Rays terrified that someone will find the trunk and somehow get it open. If they take his bones away and bury them somewhere he'll be doomed to spend eternity alone in a graveyard, hovering near his headstone day in and day out. He'll have to attend his _own_ funeral. 

"We're going to get to the motel earlier than we thought," Lindsey says, turning back around to address anyone that's still awake. Frank whoops happily, and Mikey reaches out and whacks him in the chest, mumbling something like 'trying to sleep dickwad'. Pete doesn't even move. Ray can see his fists clenched tightly, despite the faraway look on his face. 

Lindsey had promised him that they'd be at Wisteria by next week. He has no idea where they are; he can't fathom the idea of the place, even though Clara's drawn him sketches of maps and Gerard's drawn him pictures of the trees, fairies hovering in the top branches and houses built into the trunks. He doesn't understand how he's lived his whole life and is only just working out what he knows about the world is barely a quarter of what it actually holds. 

That’s when Clara starts shivering, and Ray has to wake her up.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are the ugly colours actually cheaper than the normal ones?"

"Pardon?" Clara whispers, turning around to look at Ray, dropping her hand from where she's struggling to get the keycard to work. He tugs a hand out from his pockets to point weakly at the mauve coloured walls that make up the hall. 

"All these shitty motels have ugly coloured walls. I thought all the paint cost the same? Why do they pick these colours then?" 

"Gosh, I'm not sure, love," Clara mumbles quietly, probably trying to not look like a crazy person talking to herself. "I think that these owners just have bad taste and the motel is shitty because of that. Maybe Jean and John started off with big dreams to have a line of hotels at Hilton level, but after Jean made some poor choices in the paint department they were stuck with this dump."

"Well, god dammit, Jean. Look at the mess you've made." Ray says half-heartedly, and gives the chest holding his bones a little kick. Pauses. "Sorry I made you go and get this." 

"Oh that's fine, we all forgot it was still out there, it's better in here, although why I have to be the one to get it is beside - Jesus Christ, I told Mikey this damn keycard didn't work. Mikey!" She slams on the door in frustration. 

"Keep trying," comes the deadpan response from inside. Ray can picture him, somehow managing to look sprawled out despite the size of the bed and the Pete taking up one half of it. 

"I swear to god Mikey, if you don't get out of bed to unlock this damn door I'm-"

"You know I could just go through the door and open it for you, right?" Ray interjects, and Clara sighs, shutting her eyes in frustration. 

"Of course you can. Was there a magical way to get the chest down this hall too?" 

"No," Ray mumbles, and closes his eyes. He has to focus to go through walls and things. He's getting much better though. He weakens the ball in his centre and passes through, feeling the odd squishy feeling of soft pressure that comes with passing through walls. Kinda like water in a plastic bag. He swings open the door and doesn't bother to put his feet on the ground and walk. He just hovers over to the sad looking wicker chair and sits down with his knees under his chin.   
"Thank you," Clara says pointedly, throwing a glance a Mikey, who's entangled up with Pete on a single bed. Pete's dead to the world, mouth hanging open and drooling slightly. Ray has yet to see him as a wolf, but it's hard to imagine tiny Pete as scary, especially when he drools. 

Clara's huffing and occasional swearing at Mikey comes to an abrupt end when Lindsey and Frank appear at the doorway, and Frank gives the chest she's currently heaving and inching through the doorway a little kick, and it slides across the room easily. Clara falls over and smiles.

"Thanks." 

Lindsey takes her bag off her shoulder and drops it onto the ground. 

"We have to all sleep in here tonight, they had a mix up and the only other room they can offer us we can't afford. Gerard just spent ten minutes making the woman feel sorry for us but she wouldn't budge on the price. I think she's suspicious of something. She was giving us this look. Then her husband came in and Gerard got all distracted and scared so yeah, I guess we'll just have to work with it. Clara's driving tomorrow, so she needs a full night’s rest." 

"I'm going to sleep under here.” Frank says, and promptly disappears under the bed. "Turn off the light." He adds, muffled. 

Gerard crawls into bed after Clara, the red and pink mixing together on the yellow pillow case like some weird artwork. Lindsey retreats to the bathroom, turning off the light and shutting the door. The shower begins to whine softly in the background. 

Ray sits in the dark and watches everyone sleep. It takes a long time for Lindsey to get out of the shower. It takes an even longer time for her to fall asleep in the other wicker chair, her body curled up awkwardly, but when she finally does, Ray goes completely still. The only sound in the room is soft breathing. He's not adding to it. He doesn't really use his lungs anymore. He watches them all sleep, a bullet train of thought running through his head. A wet tear drips off the end of his chin, but even then he doesn't move.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week passes in a dreamlike way; it's a blur of ugly walls and conversation that Ray doesn't absorb. Everything feels foggy as it happens and then it feels even foggier in his memories when he tries to make sense of the recent past. 

Everyone's sleeping and Clara can't. The hall is a temporary escape from the tiny room full of too many people. It's covered in horrible yellow and brown wallpaper and Ray holds her to him as he leans against it. They searched for a while to find the light switch so they could turn the lights off and not look at it. Then there was blind fumbling in the dark as they positioned themselves in a comfortable manner, but now Ray feels heavy in a nice way. Content. She's in between his thighs and his chest feels warm for a change. It's the most solid he's felt in ages. He's completely focused on his centre and he's pretty sure if someone walked in right now he'd look human. 

Clara pats her pockets. 

"There's smoke alarms in here." Ray warns in a murmur. 

"I love you," is all she says back, and if Ray had a heart it would skip a beat. 

"I love you too," he says after a moment. "Of course I do; we've been friends for ages." 

She shifts in the dark of the room. She twists around ungracefully and puts a leg on each side of his hips and a hand on each shoulder. "This okay?"

Her chest presses up against his and he feels as if his heart is beating so hard she can feel it shaking hers. "Yes," he whispers. It's more like a husk. He's surprised she heard it.

"I want to kiss you," she says, and Ray can only see the faintest outline of her. "But you're not okay right now and I want you to be okay before I start messing with things some more." 

"Okay," is all he says, and he regrets it instantly, because what the fuck is that going to encourage? Definitely not kissing. "I mean, I think I'm okay enough for that," he chokes out, and he blushes furiously, but he's certain he'll regret this more if he says nothing.

"Okay," Clara whispers, and it's even quieter than Ray.

It's just a soft press of lips together. It lasts for longer than a kiss of these sorts should and Ray begins to think about this in his head, slightly freaking out because if Clara is a bad kisser then he's not sure what to do, but then she starts pulling away and he decides he doesn't want her to do that. It's too late now anyway, she's gone and his lips don't even feel any different; there's no way to know she was once there. 

She stares at him. He can barely tell in the dark but he doesn't need too, he can feel her eyes on him.

"Ray?" 

"Yes?"

"I'm two hundred and twenty-three years old." 

He pauses, bites his lip. Then he pulls her forward a little and leans in, pressing his forehead into her shoulder, his arms sliding around her waist. "That's okay. If we are going to try and top each other's scary and weird characteristics, mine is a pretty strong counter argument. I'm like, dead," he supplies. "And I'm not ageing either, but it's kinda for a different reason." 

"Yeah," she says. "You're still 16 though." 

"Well, technically, so are you."

Ray kisses her the next time, and it's better. There's more movement between lips and hands in hair and heavy breathing and at some point Ray gets a boner that presses into Clara. She just makes a little noise and kisses him harder and she's not a bad kisser at all. She's actually really, really good. Ray's burning up downstairs from the frustration of how good she is. 

When she pulls away Ray cups her face in his hands and their foreheads press together. Clara's heavy, hot breath fans out over his mouth. 

Ray's heart stirs.


	4. Chapter 4

There's a few more cramped hotel rooms in ugly buildings but there's no more kissing. Clara holds his hand one night before she passes out and sleeps with her head in his lap the next - but there's no more kissing. Ray craves her and craves them; images of bodies sliding together and lips pressed up against each other. Ray's whole body is thrumming with need. 

Nothing happens.


	5. Chapter 5

Ray has never been to this part of America before, and never has he seen such a stereotypical house, a white picket fence enclosing a house consisting of white siding and a blue roof, the lawn containing a flag pole with the Stars and Stripes waving lazily in the breeze.   
  
Each bedroom has different array of flowery wallpaper and framed cross stitch. The bedsheets are those fancy handmade quilts that grandmas give to their grandchildren because they have ample time to make such things. Ray has always dreaded the inevitable boredom that must come from your body slowly deteriorating on itself.   
  
Ray makes Clara share a room with him in this odd house. She looks pained, ill even, as she lays her suitcase down on top of Ray's chest of bones they've just been delivered by a grinning Frank.   
  
"Why this place?"   
  
"Mikey and Gerard inherited it off their grandmother," she says over her shoulder, rummaging in her suitcase for something, shoulders tight. He can sense her tension and he doesn't understand.   
  
"Why are you acting like this?" He says, floating around the room slowly. "If you’ve changed your mind about wanting to kiss me, that's fine, my feelings aren't going to be hurt. I’ll still want to be your friend."   
  
She turns slowly, sits on the bed, looks around. "Your feelings will be hurt." She answers and that's pretty much it, that's confirmation that she doesn't want him and he's a bad kisser and his heart gets crushed a little. But hey, he has been secretly thinking about Clara as more than a friend this whole time, it’s not like he can’t just keep pretending that she means nothing to him... right?  
  
"What changed?" He asks in a whisper, because he wants to at least know why.  
  
"Oh Ray." She murmurs, and she grips her wrist and sighs. "You only like me for my aura."   
  
Ray stares at her. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I mean, if I like someone, my body usually does the magically drawing in without me noticing, in the form of a subtle aura. Self-preservation and all that - my body knows it needs food so it does what it has to do to get it."   
  
There's a long, pregnant pause. He stares at her.  
  
"You think I fucking like you because of your powers?" He hisses, floating back, stopping right before the wall, with an armchair inside his body, the pressure pushing against his insides.   
  
"Oh Ray," she says again woefully, looking away. "You wouldn't know it was happening. You think you would but you wouldn't."   
  
"I know I like you." He says forcefully.  
  
"No, you don't."   
  
"Yes. I. Do."   
  
"Ray, it’s not that I want to do it to you. But I think I am anyway."   
  
"I'm not infatuated with you in that way, Clara, I'm not just blind with lust, it's not like that. It's not what you described that others feel."   
  
"I can't," she stands and starts putting stuff in her bag. "I can't be leading you on this way. I'm going to swap rooms with someone, I don't think we should sleep together anymore."   
  
"Fuck off." He spits, blocking the door. "I liked you from day one, you idiot, ever since you arrived at school. It’s been months – I think about you all the time Clara, constantly – even when you’re not around. And you're saying you want to kiss me, that you actually like me back, but you can't? This is ridiculous, Clary, please just stay here. I like you."   
  
She stares up at him for a second and he thinks she's going to kiss him and he craves it. The hurting goes away when she kisses him. He wants the hurting to go away so bad.   
  
"I... I can't." She just steps through him, and he feels that strange sort of filling feeling that he gets, like he's almost whole but the piece being placed inside isn't the right size, and then she's walking down the hall and he's empty.  
  
He growls.


End file.
